Power & Control
by Kaslyna
Summary: But love will always be a game. Or, a Stahma-centric piece that explores her two main romantic relationships on the show: Datak and Kenya. M for mentions of sex, but not terribly graphic.


"_Give a little, get a lot, that's just how you are with love"_

If Stahma Tarr was asked her age, she'd have to think about it. She was over 5000 years old, and yet her body remained as if it were only around her mid-thirties. Castithans had a slightly longer lifespan than humans; the average lifespan was around 100 to 130 years old, as opposed to 70 to 100 years. Despite this discrepancy, human and Castithan biology was fairly similar: they had the same sexual organs, for one, though Castithan females had more erroneous zones than human females did.

When Stahma met Datak, she was awash in feelings of lust. That lust cooled over time, becoming a softer, gentler thing: love. A human concept, yet it was the closet way to describe her feelings for her husband. Those feelings ranged from lust to hatred; from contentedness to anger. They ran the gamut of emotions that humans could only begin to comprehend. His ability to be cruel, to know exactly what he wanted and to take it-damn the consequences-was what had first attracted Stahma to Datak. She knew he'd only wanted her at first for her liro and her beauty, but over time, he too felt something akin to love.

She lay beside him now after they'd had sex. He was asleep with his back to her, displaying a level of trust and intimacy he rarely showed outside of their home. She smiled faintly and placed a hand between his shoulder blades. Datak stirred in his sleep, waking up to roll to her. He buried his face in her neck, where he nipped at the skin.

"You're insatiable," he groaned, "Waking me up for the second time in a week."

"You're good," she replied easily, "I can't help that I want my husband."

He pressed her onto her back and she looked up at him, a gentle smile on her face. He smiled back at her in the most serene way possible. Datak was beautiful to her in that moment. When his lips leaned in to capture hers, she arched up into him.

They made love this time, and it was gentle and slow. Stahma loved this side of her husband that only she saw; she felt honored to be privy to it. Afterwards, he let her lie with her head upon his chest, hearing the heart beating beneath. The slowing pumping of that vital organ stirred something akin to that human emotion of love; she'd say it was fondness. After so many years, she certainly hoped to never not feel fond of her husband.

He drifted off, and Stahma followed after.

SSSSSSSSS

With Kenya, it was different; the lust was there, certainly, but so was a curiosity. Stahma was fascinated by Kenya; she was an enigma. A human who chose sex over love, who didn't chase the fantasy of a Prince Charming.

"Why do you do this?" Stahma asks Kenya she lays naked in the bed next to her, Kenya propped on an elbow to look at her, equally naked.

"Do what?" Kenya responds, biting her lip in a calculated way as she looks at Stahma beneath her lashes. Stahma smiles a little; this human is almost as clever as she is, and she has great respect for her and any woman who chooses their own destiny.

"This," Stahma gestures to their naked bodies, entwined at the legs, "Sex for money. I'm not being judgmental, but I'm curious as to how you got into this... business."

"Is it awkward for you? Knowing your husband's been inside of me?" Kenya asks, frowning a little.

Stahma laughs, a high, clear sound like a peal of bells, "Not at all. Castithan men are known for their insatiable appetites. Besides, I can't really judge. I've been inside you as well."

Kenya grins girlishly, "Well, I guess I can tell you."

Stahma shifts so she's looking at Kenya intently. As she does so, the sheet falls to expose her naked breasts. Yet another rule she's broken; even with Datak, she always wears her beads. She is not allowed to be as naked as Rayetso made her. It's against Castithan law.

"I used to be married," Kenya admits, biting her lip again, this time in shyness instead of feigned coyness, "He owned this place."

"I know," Stahma looks at her face, searching for any trace of deceit and finding none, "I heard about when he went missing. I'm sorry... if I lost Datak..."

Kenya snorts dismissively, "I'm not sorry. He always loved to exercise, and I was his favorite punching bag. After he went missing, I decided to do what I'd done best for years, only this time, I'd make a real business of it. One where I could protect and care for the girls who worked for me. Of course, I couldn't own this business without partaking. Where's the fun in not mixing business with pleasure?"

"Kenya," Stahma shifts so she's under the human, "I'm sorry... what he did to you isn't right. Datak... before I had Alak, we were married for three years. Until I fell pregnant, he did the same. I know now he'd like to sometimes, but he wouldn't dare beat the mother of his son."

It's not a lie, but it's not the truth, either. Every time Stahma was beaten by Datak, it was a sexual power play; she'd begged for it sometimes, and he'd found it extremely arousing to have her at his mercy, aroused as he was by their game. He'd discovered it after a particularly vicious attack during the war, when he'd beaten Stahma as a show of power to his men, an example of how to control one's wife. After, he'd looked at her and tenderly patched her wounds; he'd never apologize, as it wasn't necessary. She'd kissed him when he was done and fucked him right in their tent. After that, brutality became a habit during their sexual liaisons. When she'd found out she was pregnant, he'd stopped all cruelty towards her. When he found out she was carrying a boy, he'd doted on her like never before. It was then that she knew he'd come as close as possible for him to love her.

They'd never resumed using brutality in their sex acts-mostly because the war ended two years after Alak's birth, and in that time he'd still had to be gentle with her. With no war going on, the brutality and rush of adrenaline that came with it at putting her life in Datak's hands had ebbed away for both of them.

Stahma is brought back to the present by Kenya's lips on hers. The human's lips are soft, pliant; they match her own. Datak's are rougher, scarred. But everything about Kenya is soft, like a dream. When Kenya pulls away, the mistiness in her eyes matches Stahma's, though for different reasons.

"I'm sorry," Kenya's voice is hoarse, "I can't believe... I always knew it was different between Castithan couples. But if I'd known... I would've never serviced him."

Stahma's eyes grow wide in alarm; she'd intended to make Kenya trust her, not revolt against her husband! Stahma cups Kenya's face in her hands, and says seriously, "It's alright, Kenya. Thank you for your concern, but as I said, it's been years. Almost eighteen, to be exact. So there's no need for you to stop pleasuring my husband."

"It's odd to hear that come from a wife's mouth," Kenya's painted lips curve upwards, "He's very good. I can imagine you must enjoy him a lot. You do have sex, don't you? I'm not taking him from you and vice versa am I?"

Stahma smiles, amused at Kenya's babbling, "Yes, we have sex. Frequently. In a way, I hope to give him another son. I'm young still."

"How old are you?" Kenya asks, eyes wide in childlike wonder.

Stahma shrugs, "Around thirty-five, perhaps. Datak is around the same. Though really, we're both over five thousand years old. And Castithans can birth children between the age of thirteen and fifty-five, roughly. If we had another son, it'd raise Datak's status higher in our liro. I'd like to see that. He's a generous lover when basked in glory."

"Is he generous at other times?" Kenya asks, tone teasing yet genuinely curious.

"You've had sex with him," Stahma replies flippantly, "You know Castithans have more erroneous zones. You also know that he isn't generous, per se, but if you please him enough, he'll make sure you're rewarded. He is a fair man, despite his flaws."

Kenya smiles, "That he is."

"Enough talking," Stahma murmurs, leaning up to kiss Kenya. Kenya moves fluidly into the kiss, pulling Stahma closer.

This time, the sex is gentler, more understanding. There's a level of trust, too, and Stahma tells Kenya what she likes in murmurs; Stahma discovers things she enjoys that only Kenya has ever found, like that palming her breast while kissing above her bellybutton makes her body tense in rapture. She will have to guide Datak to do that, too.

As they lie there, sated for the moment, Stahma asks, hesitant, "Would you show me?"

"Show you?" Kenya asks, rolling towards her and pulling her close, "Show you what?"

"Show me how you please Datak," Stahma explains, "You're very good. You found quite a few things I enjoy that Datak or I have not found before. I'm sure you've done the same for Datak. I'd pay you extra, if you could give me at least a tip or two."

"Okay," Kenya smiles, "Well, he likes it when you stroke his lower back as you suck on his penis. He also enjoys when you're on top. It's not the kind of thing I'd advertise regularly, but he once asked if he could try it, and if I could be discreet. I hope you can be discreet as well."

Stahma laughs and thanks her. When she pays Kenya, it's double the amount they'd settled on for their tryst, and Kenya grins widely as Stahma leans in to kiss her goodbye. The money is not just for the sex, but for the companionship and the tips about her husband she'll be sure to use-though the idea of being on top of anyone but Kenya is foreign to her.

As she walks home, Stahma feels content, almost serene. Alak is waiting; Datak is out for the night, at the fighting ring he runs. Alak will have Christie with him, and they will go over some wedding details. She can't wait for Christie to be her daughter in law.

SSSSSSSSS

"Stahma," Datak hisses, a warning. She looks up with a placid expression on her face and it sends her husband over the edge. She loves this, loves when he loses control with her. Alak is out with Christie and Kenya has other appointments. Stahma wanted sex, and her husband was the object of her desires. She rises now at his hands on her shoulders to kiss him.

"What's gotten into you lately?" he asks breathlessly.

"Not you," she smirks wryly at her crude joke and his eyes widen; it's the first time she's ever said anything deliberately crass to him. Datak's hand that had been caressing her back slaps down on the curve of her buttocks, making her moan.

"Do not speak to me like you are lower than me," he growls, "You are not a whore at the NeedWant. Do not act like it ever again."

"Yes," she cries, breathlessly, an acquiescence and a plea in one.

He pins her to the wall, the white surface smooth and cool against her stomach. The servants have politely closed their ears to what's going on in the Tarrs' bathing room. As he takes her from behind, he's deliberately rough; it's the closest they've been to their game in years. Stahma feels the familiar fluttering in her belly; usually it takes longer. Datak must feel it as well because he speeds up. She shatters with a cry of Datak's name, and Datak grunts as he spills himself inside of her. When they're able to move, he turns her again and tucks a piece of hair that fell from her elaborate hairdo behind her ear. His smile is gentle but worried.

"You've never had an orgasm so quickly," he says in wonder, "Not since Alak. Are you expecting, Stahma?"

Stahma shakes her head, "Unfortunately, I don't think so."

Datak frowns, "Do you want another son?"

Stahma smiles reassuringly, "Of course I do! You do not have to ask that, Datak. Alak and you are my world, my sun and my moon. I would like nothing more than to carry another of your children."

"Good," he smiles fondly as he leans in to kiss her, "I want another child."

Stahma wraps her arms around his neck in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He stiffens in surprise before his arms wind around her back, pulling her closer to him. They'd never used any method of birth control-it was frowned upon in Castithan law, though not illegal-but now that Datak had openly stated his desire for another child (a son, of course) Stahma was filled with that emotion akin to love.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" he pulled away, a little confused as he searched her face.

"For being a wonderful husband," her smile is small but serene, and he cups her cheek.

"You never need to thank me," he growls, "In our house, you are my equal. Outside of our home, we will serve our roles the way they need to be served. But here? You will never need to thank me for being kind to you. Do not lower yourself in my eyes by thanking me needlessly."

"I'm sorry," she smiles bashfully, "I suppose I've been spending too much time with humans lately."

"Let's go to bed," he doesn't acknowledge her statement, but she knows it angers him that she is spending so much time with Christie, Kenya, and Amanda, going over wedding plans. Though in Kenya's case, if he found out about their affair, he'd probably consider her sufficiently lowered, no longer his equal. The thought scares her enough to want to tell Kenya she won't see her in bed anymore. She wants Datak more than she will ever want the human; there is no more doubt in her mind.

Kenya was an impulse. Datak was a choice she made and committed to for life. She won't back out. Not now, not ever, and certainly not for a mere human whose lifespan was thirty years less than hers. Kenya is not Datak, and never will be. In that moment, as Datak leads her to their marital bed, she makes the decision to break things off with Kenya. Of course, Stahma being Stahma, she knows it'll have to be grandiose, and to help ease her conscious, further Datak's whims of being mayor.

Anything less, and she'll fail him.

SSSSSSSSS

When she kills Kenya, she feels a twinge of remorse. She'd come to care for the girl despite herself; it wasn't close to being the supernova she felt for Datak, but it was a flame nevertheless that she was drawn to and helped ignite. Now Stahma had snuffed that flame for good.

As soon as Datak is brought to jail for killing the E-Rep, she goes to visit him. She stays waiting until they let her see him, almost a full day later. A day she hasn't left, and she knows she will kneel before him and beg his forgiveness. Because he is her star, and if Stahma doesn't have Datak she will be adrift in an endless vacuum.

"Stahma," he breathes.

"Datak," she smiles, "I've waited almost a day to see you."

"Good," he says, reaching out to grip her wrist, "Do you see now your actions were wrong?"

She sees in that moment what she once thought was anger. Now, after the events of the past few days, she sees it as a combination of fear and hurt. He's hurt at the thought of losing her and in fear of it as well. He feels the same as she does; to him, she is his star, and without her he, too, will be adrift.

"It was never an option to leave you," she assures him, "Kenya was an impulse. A mistake. I was too curious and that curiosity almost cost me the one thing I treasure most in this life: you. I will never stray again, not even in my thoughts. I felt bad killing her, but that was because I have never wanted to take a life in peacetime."

"Stahma," his voice is a plea.

She knows what he needs; she leans in through the bars and kisses him hard. The guard yells and they ignore him, until the need to breathe is too great and they pull away. The heat in his eyes is all the assurance she needs that she is forgiven.

Stahma is not lowered in Datak's eyes, and that alone makes her want to weep. She is his sun, and he is hers. They will get him out, and they will have another child. Perhaps Alak and Christie will have a child as well. No matter what happens, Stahma knows one thing: she _chose_ Datak, and she will _always_ choose him, time and time again. Nothing will ever change that, not an affair, not a murder. _Nothing_. She belongs to him, and he belongs to her.

Stahma wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
